


Living the (Slightly Tweaked) Fairytale

by luvscharlie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fanfiction, Gen, Gen Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/pseuds/luvscharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has what every mother wants for her daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living the (Slightly Tweaked) Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Set after the show ends.  
> Notes: Originally written for Week #5 at fandom_fridays on live journal, and this is once again a dip into a brand new fandom. I love Queer as Folk, but I've never had a desire to write one of the stories until this week—and once Michael started talking in my head, it was Michael that had to be written. The prompt was "Truth is Stranger than Fiction…"

Truth really is stranger than fiction, you know? I mean, let's face it. Nobody would have foreseen my life turning out as it has. That geeky gay kid with his nose always stuck in a comic book and his head in the clouds is living the dream. Who knew that was going to happen? I sure as hell didn't.

I've got what every 1950's teenage girl desired in life—look at me, going and lumping people into categories. I, of all people, should know better than that. But I have to admit that there's a certain part of me that gloats when I think about how I've attained what they all want. You know, I have, if you tilt your head just right and squint when you look at my situation… Maybe I should be more careful in my categorizing, I achieved what the mother of _almost_ every teenage girl in the 1950's aspired for her daughter to grow up and have. That's probably more correct… you know, every mother who isn't like mine.

I mean didn't most of them want their daughters to grow up and get the white picket fence and the handsome man and the two children? (And yes, I have heard the nonsense about the whole 2.5 children thing, but if I find half a child lying around, I'm fairly certain I won't be collecting it to take home and fill another statistic. Just saying. I mean who even thinks up those things, right?) Still, I mean, didn't I get all of that? Okay, not the white picket fence unless you count the one that Hunter put around my potted palm. Cheeky, I know. But the rest of it; I got that.

 _The handsome man._ Boy, did I ever overshoot the mark in that regard. 'Handsome' just really doesn't do him justice. God was smiling down on me the day I found Ben. I can't imagine two people more perfect for one another than Ben and I. I know, I know. Brian would be shoving his finger down his throat and making retching sounds at hearing me waxing poetic… and even worse, domestic. But still, it's true.

 _The two kids._ My mother, supportive as she is (and she's the most wonderfully supportive person I've ever met—when mothers were being handed out, I surely did get lucky), was always a bit put out that my being gay lessened the possibilities of her having grandchildren. Pennsylvania, while not the most backwards, isn't the most forward thinking state either. Given the fact that we are a gay, unmarried (yeah, like it's our fault this country doesn't recognize our nuptials) couple, and Ben's HIV status, our chances of adopting a child weren't good… or so we thought… then along came Hunter. Okay, he came before the nuptials, technically, but this is my story. If you want to be all picky, write your own.

And Hunter's a good kid. I mean, he's had his share of hard knocks, and there's that whole "girlfriend issue," but maybe he'll grow out of—Jesus, mercy, did I just say that? Maybe that's how my mom felt when I came out… or maybe not. I mean she knew all along—Hunter's coming out was a surprise and—and I just attempted to justify that again… moving on. I'm going to hope none of my friends ever hear about that little slip up. I'll lose my gay card… or my left nut.

It's just you want the best for your kids, you know? And I mean, not that there's anything wrong with the whole "Hunter likes girls thing," as I've come to think of it, but how am I supposed to guide him, when I have no idea about the road he's traveling down? And maybe it takes being a parent to understand why some parents have such a hard time when their kids come out. It's that whole unknown world and the knowing that their kids are going to face things in which they can offer no guidance. Because I have to admit, that's scary.

I guess looking at it from either side of the door, straight or gay, it never gets any easier. The trials of parenting are universal. I want to see both my kids succeed in all they set out to do, and while I know they'll never learn anything unless I allow them to stumble, there's certainly an urge to rush in and catch them long before they skin their knees.

Of course, I guess with Jenny Rebecca it will mostly be Mel and Lindsey doing the catching. I get to see her, of course, but I wish they lived closer. Still, I do understand—what it must be like to live in a country that recognizes their marriage.

And with all of that, I guess all parents, whether from the 1950's era or today, ultimately want their children to be happy. Happiness, I got that in abundance. Sometimes real life is simply far better than those make believe stories we grow up hearing.

Sometimes the fairytales are outdated, and in need of a little tweak to make them work in this modern world. I know—Boy, do I know, that they still work out. The happily ever after is still a very real possibility. I'm living proof of that. It's just that it's not always about princes finding princesses. Sometimes those princesses are superfluous. The prince just needs to go find himself another prince and ride off into the sunset. And if he picks the right prince and looks hard enough, there just might be a white picket fence and those 2.5 kids over the next hill.

Stranger things have happened, right?


End file.
